


A Darker Shade Of Fear

by Gryphonheart



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game)
Genre: BDSM, Bondage, F/M, Fear Play, Hearts of Stone (The Witcher 3 DLC), Mild Smut, Post-Hearts of Stone (The Witcher 3 DLC), Skyrim References, The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-02-23 07:24:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23707840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gryphonheart/pseuds/Gryphonheart
Summary: What if the Devil enjoys fear laced with arousal?
Relationships: Gaunter O'Dimm/Reader
Comments: 7
Kudos: 70





	1. "So you like to be afraid."

**Author's Note:**

> TW: Bondage, BDSM, fear play, mention of r*pe, non-consensual theme, adult content, violence, death,
> 
> Skyrim is tagged because I have decided that Gaunter O'Dimm also appears as the Daedric prince, Clavicus Vile.

His touch has a magical charge to it, as though fueled by lightning itself. You say nothing, but he knows you feel it, and there is a smirk in his dark eyes. Taunting you. He could kill you in an instant, but he seems too…interested. Amused perhaps, by your reaction to him.

He steps behind you, and you *know* he heard your breath hitch just then. One of his hands wraps itself around your neck, and very lightly squeezes. His lips are oh-so-close to your ear as he says softly, “So you like to be afraid.”

Your lips begin to form some kind of phrase, to argue, refute, but a finger from his other hand meets them to shush you gently. “Ah,” he says slyly, “It wasn’t a question.”

He squeezes barely tighter, and pulls you back. You begin to lose balance, but not quite enough to fall, just disorient and slightly alarm your nerves. “Don’t worry,” He whispers. You can hear the evil smile in his voice. “I can keep you on this precipice for a long, long time.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The man’s screams drag you back to consciousness like a firm icy hand.

“Please, I don’t want to die!” He shrieks.

But HE is there, holding the struggling man by the throat. The devil meets your gaze and his lips widen in an evil smile. “Say goodbye.” He tells the man, and slices through his chest with a dagger you hadn’t seen him holding. The man looks at you as he dies; you can feel his desperation as his blood covers the ground around him.

You try to pull against the chains holding you upright, but your arms are stretched so high that you are on your toes already, stumbling if you move.

He approaches you now, and your breath quickens. You see his feet stop in front of you - too close. A hand weaves its way into your hair, gently but firmly pulling your head up. You shut your eyes tightly, waiting for pain. It never comes.

“Look at me.” He commands softly. His hand shifts from your hair to hold your neck under your chin. You open your eyes to see his face. His eyes are dark, and filled with some feeling you can’t place, but it’s clear he enjoys what he is doing.

“Are you going to kill me too?” The words spring from your lips before you can stop them. That deep, dark laugh again, but softer.

“Do you know why he had to die?” He asks, tracing the dagger up the bare skin of your trembling leg; hard enough to leave a scratch but not enough to cut. It’s still warm, and you can’t look down, you can’t.

You shake your head. Your eyes have locked on his and refuse to look away. He brushes the tears from your cheek with his thumb as he regards you thoughtfully.

“He was a wicked man.” He whispers, tracing the tear trail down your face; he follows it with his eyes. “He raped and murdered so many women. But the reason he had to die…” His eyes meet yours sharply and you draw in a bated breath. “He made a deal, and refused to keep his end of it.” He says. “I can’t abide someone who goes back on their word.”

“Why am I here?” You ask, looking up at the chains. “Why did you make me watch?”

He steps back, and walks around you slowly, trailing the dagger around your waist with just enough force that you can feel its point scratching you.

“You are here because you want to be here.” He says close to your ear. You feel the oh-so-sharp point of the dagger being pressed into your lower back, and slowly slicing its way upward; the fabric of your shirt gives way, and falls to the sides. He abruptly turns your head, and his face is almost touching yours. His eyes burn through you, and his knife on your bare skin makes you tremble.

“I made you watch so you can describe to others what happens when someone crosses me.” He leans in ever closer, and his lips graze your neck as he speaks…lower. He is not quieter, but his voice is as low as the pits of the void and it steals your breath. “And I wondered,” He says, wrapping those slim fingers around your neck just as you’ve imagined in your dreams since the first time it happened. “I’ve wondered just how far your excitement at fear would take you.”

It’s too much at once, and you *will* your lips not to betray you. The sharpness against your bare skin, and his heated words and breath at your neck. The excitement of not being able to stop him, not that you could to begin with. Not being able to run…

“I’ve wondered,” He says again into the place where your neck meets your shoulder. “And you do not disappoint. It’s not often my talents are…appreciated.” His hand around your throat tightens ever so slightly, and his teeth graze the delicate skin of your neck while his lips ghost around them, caressing you.

And then you hear your own voice utter, “Please,” You can feel his lips curl into a smile against your skin.

“This will not be our last encounter.” He says into your ear. “I assure you of that.”


	2. Fear and Lust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The devil enjoys the taste of human feelings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Bondage, BDSM, fear play, non-consensual theme, adult content

You are lost in the space between the delicious pain of his teeth on your neck, and edge of the blade pressed to your back. You briefly wonder what he wants with you, why you? 

“Please,” Your voice says again breathlessly, and you feel him laugh into your skin. Your feet slip, and you are momentarily suspended by your wrists, swaying as you hang there, unable to find the ground with your feet. His hand moves from your neck to your waist, and he twists you around to face him while you dangle there like a marionette. His smile is darkness, and it burns you as he steps in closer….too close. The tips of your toes finally come to rest on his boots, and you struggle to stay balanced there.

“Do you know how fast your heart is beating?” He asks. His hand meets the bare skin of your back, and you shudder; you almost fall. “I can hear it calling out what you won’t say.”

“Please let me down.” You whisper. You barely hear yourself over the blood pounding in your ears.

His hand finds your hair, and pulls your head backward, and your feet try so very hard to stay beneath you. “Is that really what you want?” His voice asks softly. His face is oh-so-close to yours, and he carries the delicious, enveloping scent of a wood fire.

“What are you going to do to me?” Your question is a whisper that seems to echo in the silence. “What do you want?”

He laughs quietly in that deep, sinful tone, and releases your hair. You feel the sharp scratch of the dagger across your shoulder blades, and your shirt falls to the ground. “Why is it,” he asks, tracing your trembling spine with the sharp point of the blade. “That you assume I am not already doing what I want with you?” His eyes burn through you like a focused beam of fire, and you feel naked before his gaze. More naked than you are.

“Once, every few years or so,” he says, tracing up your neck with the underside of his fingernails, “I enjoy watching human feelings. My favorites have been jealousy, vengeance, pain, and fear. And most fear me.” He ghosts the blade’s tip from your hip to your shoulder blade, and you shudder.

“You are the first I’ve encountered to enjoy that fear, and feel….lustful for it.”

His fingers curl behind your neck to cradle your head beneath your hair. You feel the sharp tip of the dagger pushed further into your skin; you gasp a wordless breath and move forward away from the pain. And into him. He digs the point in deeper, and you cry out softly, leaning as far away from the blade as your chains will allow. Your chest meets his, and the side of your face brushes against his jaw. You feel his laugh in his chest before you hear it.

The actions of his hands are conflicting. The one caressing your scalp gently, a lover’s touch; the other manipulates you forwards, almost stabbing, but not quite.

“And I find that feeling….delicious.” He says in your ear, his lips grazing your sensitive flesh with every word.


	3. What's In A Name?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Devil introduces himself in a sinful way.

You feel your face flush with...shame? You know every word he says is true, and yet you want to deny it with everything within you. He pulls away from your ear, and you look down, fighting with his hand in your hair that gently holds you in place. The knife creeps up your back and over your shoulder, coming to rest under your chin. Slowly, he turns the blade, forcing you to face him once more.

"There is no shame here." He says firmly, running the knife across the skin of your neck ever so gently. You are certain that he can feel your pulse through the blade; your heart is beating so loudly, you are amazed that it doesn't echo in the cave. 

"Unless you enjoy shame as well, I suppose." He adds with a smirk, that deep chuckle in his voice, and you feel your legs weaken. Your tortured mind wonders who he is, and why he has such a hold on you. Only moments ago, he made you watch him kill a man. You cannot fathom how or why he is the pure embodiment of lust; the way he looks at you sets your skin on fire.

"Who are you?" Your voice asks shakily. Your legs are trembling and unsteady beneath you, and your feet falter from their precarious balance on his boots. He stows the knife in a sheath on his belt, and you feel both of his hands holding you upright against him. The heat of his hands spreads into your cold skin.

"I have many names," He whispers into your ear, "Allow me to introduce myself." His low voice has a dark, lustful tone that triggers an ache in you, and his words are punctuated by his teeth on your flesh.

"Master Mirror." He bites down on your earlobe and you gasp softly.

"Man of Glass." His lips find your neck, and his tongue spends a moment ravishing the spot.

"Fate Peddler." One of his hands caresses the small of your back, sending torturous jolts of lightning up your spine. 

"Clavicus Vile." His teeth find the ever-so-sensitive place where your neck meets your shoulder. Your head is quickly becoming light with the overwhelming stimulation of all your nerves.

"Evil Incarnate." His other hand skirts up your ribs and traces patterns on the delicate skin of your chest.

"But *you* my dear," he pulls his face from your neck, and you are trapped in the fire of his eyes. You cry out as his fingertips brush against one of your nipples, and the corners of his mouth turn upward, into the most wicked of smiles.

"You may call me Gaunter O'Dimm."


	4. The Burning Price Of Pleasure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What would you give for the Devil's touch?

You struggle for breath. His teeth are buried in your neck while his tongue makes love to your skin, and one of his hands holds the small of your back; his fingers stroke a small circle that sends sparks up your spine. This man, Gaunter O’Dimm....he will be your undoing. You have never known such want before.

His other hand is still on your chest, tracing ever so lightly around your sensitive flesh, never quite touching your nipple, but skirting around it...torturing you. You beg wordlessly; he rips the sound from your lips with his skilled hands and mouth. He pulls away, and the wicked smile on his face tells you he knows exactly what he is doing to you.

“And what is it _you_ want?” That sinful tone. Quiet, but deep and dark. “What can the Man of Glass offer you? What deal would you make?” There is a slight chill in the cave, but your skin feels like fire under his gaze. Your voice catches in your throat.

“I just…” You stammer, unable to look away, “Please touch me.”

“And what do you offer me in return?” He asks. His dark eyes glitter in the light of the torches around the cave, and for a moment, you can see the feeling written there: a lustful…..pride? He is proud of what he is doing to you, of the fire he has stoked within you.

“I have nothing,” You say, “Nothing you could possibly want.” You look down at your feet, away from his eyes. The magic is somewhat diminished; you remember now you are just a beggar. 

His hand moves from your chest to pull you back up to face him. “Would you give yourself to me?” He asks. His hand caresses your face gently before moving lower to grasp your throat.

“Would you agree to be mine?” You see your reflection in his eyes. 

You think about your life scrubbing the tavern floors and sleeping in the street. No one has ever wanted you, for a lover or anything else. You’ve never dreamed of belonging to someone...but what does that mean to him? Perhaps a better life for you. In any case, it could be no worse than being kicked by the innkeeper for not scrubbing hard enough. And by all the gods, you want this man to touch you.

“Yes.” You whisper. His lips are so close to yours, and you watch them turn upwards into a smile. His hand moves to the side of your neck, and runs across your shoulder and a short way up your arm, leaving a burning sensation in its wake. 

Gaunter moves ever closer, his breath ghosts your cheek as he looks downward. “You are mine, by your own will.” His voice is little more than a whisper, but the power it holds...your breath is caught in your lungs. “You will find that I am quite assiduous about what is mine.” His gaze travels back up to yours slowly. Behind his thick dark eyelashes, his eyes flash a brilliant yellow-orange for a brief moment; vanishing as quickly as it had appeared. “I can be a very particular man.” He pauses.

“Well, not really a man.” He says with a smirk. His hand leaves your arm, and travels down your body at a tantalizing pace, stopping at the hem of your undershorts. 

“Please let me down,” You beg again, looking up at the chains that hold you upright. You want to touch him, to hold his shoulder, to kiss him if he will let you…

Gaunter laughs quietly, slipping his fingers between the garment and your flesh. You cry out at his touch, and his wicked smile widens when he feels the effect he has had on you.

“I never bound you,” He says, “This was your dream, I simply entered it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoyed this, you may also enjoy my soon-to-be-published sequel, "Fear's Passion" :)


End file.
